58

The Gathering Storm

The autumn chill that Lottica had felt last night on her grandparents' balcony at Breima Manor was nothing compared to the near-winter cold of the high peaks surrounding her. Heidein had landed his Cessna at a small airfield around noon. It had taken almost two hours driving into the foothills to get to the rustic cabin Heidein had arranged for them.

Lottica sat on the back deck taking in the view right at her feet, literally, because where the deck ended, the mountains began. Gentle slopes of loose rocks gradually steepened and then rose precipitously and grandly into walls of deeply grooved stone. It was like examining the graying teeth of a gargantuan fossilized beast from the past. Lottica thought of the wild legends that had sprung from these mountains centuries ago and, with a shiver, understanding how why they could be so believable.

"Pretty amazing," Nick commented as he came out onto the deck.

"Amazing doesn't have the same meaning to me as it did a couple of weeks ago, but I agree." Lottica paused to look up at her brother who, she realized, suddenly appeared to be an inch or two taller. "Did you grow or something? I mean, I believe in all that fresh mountain air stuff, but this seems a bit extreme even for Lebreima."

"Nice, Lottie. Good to know the wit is still sharp." He pointed to his feet. "It’s the boots. We’ll need them looking for Mom and Dad." His eyes trailed off towards the rugged peaks surrounding them.

"Do you really think we can find them here?” Lottica asked. “It didn’t seem so daunting before we got up close to these mountains."

"Yeah. For a small country, these are some pretty serious mountains. But we're not alone. Bopei told me that Heidein spoke to Weirhamatt on the phone. The authorities have already begun searching along the original flight plan and will expand their search from there.

“Plus, Heidein knows this area. He and Beilla grew up near here, so he has an idea of where Beilla may have taken them. There’s a remote lake up on Mount Breima where they used to fish. He said there are some old cabins there and that’s where Beilla and Abzeig may have taken Mom and Dad. It’s a couple mile hike to those cabins. "

"What are we waiting for then?"

"Bopei said that Heidein has gone to get provisions. He’s also trying to find out what he can about Beilla's plane, since we didn’t see any signs of it as we flew in."

"So, we just sit and admire the view?"

"No. Bopei wants us to each find a backpack in the storage room. It's full of camping stuff. He said to pack correctly for tomorrow because we might be gone overnight."

Lottica gave him a serious look. "Nick, are we ready for this?"

"I guess as much as Mom and Dad were."

"Breimas, huh?"

"Trajeimes," he deadpanned.

"I hope not,” Lottica sighed. “We can’t be fools. This might get dangerous.” She stood up. “I just can't get that drawing Weirhamatt showed us of the two empty-hearted kids out of my mind. Could they be us?"

Nick fidgeted. "I dunno. You're the creative thinker. What does it tell you?"

"It tells me they've lost something. Something close to their hearts. Just like we lost Mom and Dad.” She lowered her eyes. “I couldn’t take that again."

In the silence that followed an unexpected voice answered from the back doorway. "You strong, Lottica. Nick. And maybe the picture mean…the two are waiting. Waiting to make whole," Ladamei offered, her face warm with concern.

Lottica went and took her grandmother's hand. "Yes, that would be a nicer way to look at it."

"It is how Tireima works. Together is stronger. It helps. It heals." She squeezed Lottica's hand. "Come. Get ready. We must pack and have dinner. Heidein call and come later." She was about to go back into the cabin, but paused and looked past Nick and Lottica before mentioning, "Heidein say big storm coming."

Lottica wheeled around to face southwest. She had hoped to watch the stars tonight, relishing the thought of how clear and close they would be in the mountains. Yet, as Heidein had forewarned, she saw a formidable wall of thunderheads pushing up against the jagged horizon. The heavy underbellies of the clouds were as black as Beilla’s cape. Her countenance immediately darkened at the thought that her parents might be out in the gathering storm.